Dragon Age: The Elf-Blood Twins
by Grey Nayr
Summary: Alexi and Alexa are all each other have after the death of their mother. After years of living on the streets as urchins, Alexi's budding magical abilities sends the two in separate directions. But Alexa remains determined to stay with the only family she's ever known, by any means necessary.


Dragon Age

The Elf-Blood Twins

By Grey Nayr

Chapter One: Discovery

- 9:13 Dragon -

The brisk morning air nipped at the skin of the Negiim twins as they tore about the streets of Highever, playing a game of tag. Few their own age were willing to let them join into their games. They were forbidden at the behest of the parents who disapproved of them. Leaving the pair with nobody but each other for company.

Their sickly mother did all she could for her young children; trying endlessly to sway the closed-minded. But prejudiced hearts were not easily changed, and even she was bullied and condemned by them. Branded as a slut brazen enough to keep an elven man's bastards instead of dropping them at the nearest Chantry, denying that she scandalous affair ever even happened. They snided and jeered at the sight of her, and passed on no chance to remind her of the punishment her lover suffered for daring to lay in a human woman's bed and sow his seeds.

In the end, they relented, and just kept to themselves. The option of leaving Highever and going to a small village in the Bannorn was considered, but the mother lacked the health and the wealth needed to move. It was all she could do to provide scraps of food and tattered clothing and blankets for her darling son and daughter.

Alexi, the boy; and Alexa, the girl, bore a striking resemblance to one another. And many would have confused them as a pair of twin sisters, were it not for their mother's efforts to diversify their appearance. Alexi bore short uneven hair that was never combed. Alexa always wore a dress and hair she was never permitted to cut expanded town to her knees. But nothing could change the eerie likeness of their faces, or their slender figures that implied their elven father, or round ears that marked them as human.

But despite their identical features, the twins carried distinctly different personalities. Alexi was strong, cunning, and cold, while Alexa was meek and caring. Their mother often became exasperated at Alexi's thoughtless attitude, but took a modicum of solace in that he at least showed some consideration for his sister.

But then their mother died.

After a long and harsh winter, their mother's chronic illness got the better of her and she contracted pneumonia which spelled her death.

The children were taken to the Chantry for the remainder of that winter, but Alexi was cast out for openly mocking the Maker and those foolish enough to worship a god he believed did not exist. And though she could have stayed, Alexa wished not to be separated from the only family she had left.

And for the next three years they lived alone on the streets of Highever, where they now played. They were utterly dependent on one another and no one else. Nobody could be trusted. Nobody would love them. Eight years old they were, and they had already learned the world's cruel ways.

Most of the world's ways, that is.

The lessons of the streets and slums are survival, but they taught nothing of magic or how to control it. Their brief time in the Chantry taught them the Chantry's views of magic - that it is betraying. Their bones were chilled by tales of good men were led to sin by the power lust it brought, and wrought horrible atrocities upon the world under the name of the Tevinter Imperium. And that their evil was so great that the Maker Himself cursed them for trespassing in his dominion, unwelcome. The children were too young to truly understand the contexts, or the pretexts of such stories, only that the Chantry hated magic for a reason that had nothing to do with them. Which was why neither cared when Alexi displayed the gift.

Whilst playing their game in the early morning, Alexa was caught stealing a loaf of bread from a stand. The fat and balding keeper of the stand grabbed her by he wrist, preventing her lecherous hand from grasping the freshly baked food. He tugged and threw her to the ground. She cowered as he towered over her with his hand raised to strike.

And on pure instinct, Alexi reacted. The man's apron caught fire and he shrieked at the burning as he desperately struggled to undo the knot he had tied tightly just so it wouldn't come off easily.

"_Maleficar_!" the man spat ignorantly as he finally wrest the blazing article from his body and cast it aside. He scuttled back fearfully of what the boy might do next. "Stay away from me, demon spawn!" He swore. "Take it! Take what you want, just don't hurt me!" He plead. And the two did as he said, helping themselves to the bread and meats that laid on the table for hungry, and coin-carrying customers. But today they needed no coin. They had something better than money.

Power.

The two fled, arms full, to their mother's home. They strew the food across the table and began to eat. Well, Alexi did. Alexa took a moment to offer a prayer.

"Dear Maker, thank you for the food we have," and peering an eye up at her brother whose cheeks were swollen with food as he chewed, added with a chuckle, "and for my brother's fire."

Alexi swallowed. "I don't know why you waste time with that, sister," he chuckled, grinning. "No one _ever_ talks back."

The young girl pouted and began to eat, biting into the soft bread and savoring its warmth. They had no sugar or butter to add to enhance the taste, but it was still better than anything they'd eaten since leaving the Chantry. The meat was sausages made from venison. It's spiced taste was heavenly and Alexi let out a loud belch after washing it down with a drink of water. Alexa laughed and followed with a belch of her own, blushing as her brother laughed at her doing something she was taught was unladylike.

"How did you do that?" Alexa finally said.

"I dunno." Alexi belched again. "I got angry and he was just on fire."

"Could it be magic?"

"If it is, we might not want to ever go back to the Chantry," Alexi laughed wryly as he took another bite of sausage. "They don't like that stuff." His words slurred from his full mouth.

The two finished eating. They engorged until their bellies were full and aching. They laid down in bed and passed out from fatigue, only to be awoken a short time later by a knock on the front door.

Outside of the house the shopkeeper stood with two armored men. Their gray steel breastplates were inlaid with the emblem of the Templar Order and their heads were covered by their helmets. A violet gown with elaborate sewn-in patterns and gold embroidery for the trim covered their legs.

"Are you sure this is the place?" A templar asked the man. He nodded. "I'm _certain_. I know those little elf-blooded bastards. Their mother used to buy from me whenever she could screw for the coin." It was a hateful speculation with no basis of fact. His mind could not fathom any other reason for a human woman to cavort with an elven man. She had to be a prostitute. Either not attractive enough to work at the local whorehouse or bold enough to think she could steal customers and keep all the coin for herself. The one templar shrugged while the other called him an idiot with a derisive snort.

The templar banged on the door again.

No one answered.

"Come out now or we'll break it down!" the templar threatened. The door was old, rotting wood and the hinges and locks were rusted. With a good heave he could probably force it open with one arm, but knocking was more polite and he wanted to give the young apostate a chance to surrender peacefully.

Inside, Alexi and Alexa looked out from the upstairs window and wondered what was happening. The knew templars from their days in the Chantry but were unaware of their purpose. They believed that the shop keeper had gone to the Chantry in lieu of the city guard, hoping that they would put them to the torch for daring to wield the awesome power of magic against him.

They may have even been right in that notion.

Just as the Templar readied to force his way in, he heard the sound of the lock being undone. The old door slid open and a young girl peeked out. "Why are you here?"

"Is that the mage?" the scolding templar asked the shopkeeper. The man answered no and pointed out that the mage was a young boy with short messy hair. The templar waved his partner aside and knelt down. "They tell me you're elf-blooded, is that true?"

"Why do you care?" The girl was cagey, suspicious.

"Because..." the man said as he removed his helmet and revealing a set of pointed ears, large eyes, and a straight nose, "I'm an elf. And I look out for my kin."

"What is this?!" the fat shop keep demanded. "There are no elven templars! You're an imposter!"

"Shut up you miserable sot!" the other templar growled, finally angry at the offense against his man. "We are _all_ allowed to serve the Maker."

"Bah!" the fat man spat, "you're probably one of them knife-eared bastards too!" he accused. The templar responded by removing his own helmet to reveal a clearly human man. He was tall and stocky, and grizzled. He said nothing more but punched the man for his ignorance.

The girl stifled a laugh at seeing the greasy pig who'd manhandled her earlier being put in his place in the same fashion that she was. The elven templar asked again, "Where is your brother? We don't want to hurt him."

"You... you don't?" she asked.

"Quite the opposite, we're going to protect him," the man promised. Her brother shook his head fiercely, pleading to her with his eyes not to open the door. He didn't like the Chantry, the templars, or the contrived stories they told. Most of which involved punishing people for possessing the gifts he held rather than protecting them. But Alexa was different. She liked the Chantry and only left because he was excommunicated for his own heretical disbelief. She left because she was all he had. And a lone _elf-blooded_ child wouldn't last out in the world for long. She was young but smart enough to weigh odds. She heard enough to know that mages were not simply executed, but imprisoned in a place called The Circle. And life in there had to be better than life on the streets. It just had to!

And she also knew the punishment for defying the templars was a swift execution.

"He's over here," she pointed as she opened the door. Alexi tried to bolt past the templars but the human Knight-Lieutenant snatched him by the arm and quickly let out an aura of dispelling energy to negate the magic the boy was forming. Before the boy could conjure another spell the templar kicked him in the gut, hard enough to knock the wind from him and render him unconscious.

The girl cringed at the sight of her brother being hurt, her eyes painted angry by what she believed was betrayal. But the elven templar calmed her by explaining that they were merely defending from an attack and no further harm would come to Alexi.

The fat shopkeeper - once he'd picked himself up off of the ground - attempted to force his way into the house to reclaim his stolen food and exact punishment on Alexa for daring to steal. Sensing the dark intentions the elven templar drew his sword and brought it to the man's throat. "Listen up, _shem_," he started, "I think you can forgive this _and_ let her keep the food, just this once. Don't you?"

"Certainly," the man laughed nervously as he swallowed, feeling his adam's apple graze the edge of the blade ever so lightly.

"Now go. And if you break your word and come back, I'll kill you." He spoke that threat just low enough where no one but the three of them heard. And as soon as he lowered his blade, the fat human shopkeeper ran off.

"Thank you," Alexa said to the templar. He patted her on the head before putting it back onto his head. "Any time. I became a templar to show that elves are more than what little the _shemlen_ make of us."

"What do I do now?" was her next question. She was alone now, with no one in the world to keep her company or care, save this elder. An elf in a respectable position, who did not cower before bullies, but dominated them. He was kind to her, as most templars were in her days at the Chantry. And that thought answered her question. Her brother was the reason she left, and with him being hefted off to the Circle of Magi, nothing was stopping her from returning. She could become a cloistered sister and devote her life to the Maker whom she loved. Or even a templar, following the example set by the man before her. She was human, but scorned for her elf blood, and she could do the same for others like her. It was a childish idealism, a dream. But at any rate, the Chantry would be warmer and more welcoming than the cold house and the streets of Highever.

"Take me to the Chantry," she pleaded to the templar. He sighed and nodded. "Get your things and come along."

She did as he instructed.

Two weeks passed since Alexi's magic was discovered. And since he was hauled away by the templars. He swore under his breath, using words he was far too young to say, much less understand.

The worst part of all was that it was _Alexa_ who betrayed him to the templars. His fate was entirely her fault, he thought. If only she hadn't opened the door. Maybe they would have left. Maybe he could have jumped out the window and ran to a hiding place. They could have left Highever and taken their chances elsewhere. Their bellies were full, for once, and their mother's chest had a few silvers in it. With just the two of them and not their sickly mother, they could have made it!

And now! Now he sat in a waiting room at a place called "Kinloch Hold" to the southwest of Highever and bordering on the Bannorn. It was the tower of the Circle of Magi in Ferelden, where mages came to study, he was told. But others whispered that it was where they were contained. So that the normal folk needn't fear their Maker-forsaken powers and live without their oppression.

But that wasn't what the templar told Alexa. He lied! And she believed him! He didn't know who to hate more, the templars for their deceit or his sister for her own stupidity. Every time he tried to conjure a spell along the way to the tower he would be negated by the seemingly magical ability that the armored tyrants possessed. It was absolutely hypocritical to him. If they used magic freely - even this kind - why couldn't he? Was it because he was a criminal and stolen from the stand? Or was it because he was a half-blood, the very reason everyone else hated him? He didn't know and he wanted answers. But every time he spoke he was silenced. They only told him that the First Enchanter would tell him everything he needed to know.

Needed, not wanted.

He would be kept oblivious. To what, he did not know. And they were perfectly fine with that. He didn't even know what an enchanter was, let alone a "first enchanter." It sounded like someone important, and nothing else.

As he was just about to ask again, the stoic templar just hushed him before a word passed his lip, and he waited, being constantly watched, until the door finally open and two men walked through. The first was another templar, bearing higher quality armor than the others. He was helmet-less and his ginger hair was parted at the right and he was graying at the temples. His stubble made him look slightly grizzled, but still clean.

The other man was in green robes. Leather was sewn in over the shoulders, back, and upper chest, and a sash held the ensemble together. He was aged, at least in his early fifties. His long brown hair was beginning to gray and his beard reached down to his chest. And on his finger was a signet ring bearing the emblem Alexi had been seeing everywhere - the crest of the Circle of Magi. In the man's opposite hand was a knife and a tube. Both were cleaner and fancier than anything the boy from the streets had ever seen in his life, and it was a mystery what the man planned to do with them.

"Hello, young man." The old sage smiled. "My name is Irving. And this is Greagoir. Do you know who we are?"

"A couple of old geezers?" the boy snarked. Greagoir cringed while Irving stifled a laugh. "I am the new First Enchanter of the Circle."

"What happened to the old one?" Alexi snorted. "Did he die?"

"Yes," Greagoir admitted. Ivring shot him a look that said he was giving too much information. But the Knight-Commander would point out that the treason and death of First Enchanter Remille just three years ago was hardly a secret. It takes much debate to choose a first enchanter's successor. An agreement between both mages and templars must be reached. And being that Remille was new to the job himself after the death of First Enchanter Arlen, debate stretched on and it was only just recently decided that Irving was the best man for the job.

"What'd he die of?" Alexi asked. He was still a young boy, curious and thrilled by action. But Greagoir didn't answer that time.

"What are you going to do to me?" Alexi asked, scared as he saw Irving brandish the knife and attach the tube to the grip. He now realized the significance of Greagoir's presence. He was there to make sure the boy could cast no spells on Irving while he did whatever he was going to do with the knife.

"You need not worry, child," Irving smiled. "This is a device the enchanters created to extract and preserve blood."

"B- blood?" the boy gulped nervously. "Why do you need my blood?"

"To catch you if you ever try to escape," the stoic templar laughed. An action that earned him a harsh rebuke from the superior who was present in the room.

"It is a safeguard," was the only thing Irving said as he reached his hand into a jar and removed an ointment which he then rubbed into the boy's arm. Alexi felt himself go numb and watched as Irving sank the knife painlessly into his flesh.

Much to his surprise, the cut did not bleed. The blood was being drank by several small holes in the ridge of the knife's blade and fed through a chamber down into the hilt, and into the vial. Once it was full, Irving removed the knife and immediately covered the laceration with his other hand. A luminescent glow began to emanate and when the old enchanter removed his grip, there was no cut to be seen. Just intact flesh.

Irving removed the tube from the knife and corked it before tossing the blade into a tub of soapy water. He passed off the vial to Greagoir for them to take down to the phylactery chamber. "It won't be so bad here," Irving offered with a smile. "You might even like it."

And Irving and Greagoir left as the stoic templar took Alexi down to the apprentice dormitories.

"Welcome to the Circle, pup," the man said.

Back in Highever, Alexa couldn't sleep. Guilt over what her brother must be viewing as betrayal washed over her, making her not at peace. The sisters did all they could for her, reassurances and platitudes. It was the Maker's work and she had done Him a service. She should be proud. There was one less mage loose in the world to cause chaos. But she didn't see it that way. Her brother was scared and hurt, and blaming her, no doubt.

Unable to rest, she set off to the kitchens for a glass of water. It was late in the night and most were already asleep in their beds, save a few cloistered sisters and Mother Aileen. She descended a spiral of stairs to the ground floor and passed through the hall which was lined with rows of pews set before a large altar with a statue of Andraste overhead. The prophet was wielding the Sword of Mercy flanked by a painted backdrop of flames. The moment the Maker forgot us again, the priestesses called it. Humankind had taken an offer of forgiveness, and the only hope they had for salvation, and put her to the torch. And for that the Maker turned away from them and left them to their fates.

But the Chantry believes differently. They told Alexa if the Chant of Light could be sung from all the corners of the world that the Maker would forgive them again and restore the world to a paradise with no evil.

The day Alexa asked why the Maker would forgive us again after Andraste earned her a night cleaning the dishes. You do not question the Maker's will, she was told. But as far as she could tell, it wasn't the _Maker's_ will at all, it was their own. The Maker _Himself_ had made it pointedly clear that they had betrayed him one time too many. And if Alexi were here, he'd say that no amount of apologetic pleas can make a person forgive betrayal.

Which meant he'd never forgive her.

She crept by the Revered Mother's chambers. Light shone through from the seams of the door and Alexa could hear her speaking with Mallol, the Mother from the Chantry in Highever Castle, which was owned by the Cousland family, the lords of the tyrnir.

Upon success, she spirited quietly to the kitchen and retrieved a glass of water, drinking it down and leaving it in the wash pile before returning to her bed.

The next day she dragged herself about the church grounds, doing chores. Washing clothes and plucking weeds from the gardens. As she toiled, she wondered where Athran, the elven templar was. Did he accompany his partner to the Circle tower with Alexi? Or was he out helping another mage like he did her brother? Nobody would tell her.

At half past noon, the sun bore down from the clear sky, heating the lands to a comfortable temperature. Ferelden was heralded as being one of the colder countries of the world, unlike Antiva or Par Vollen, which were perpetual summer being closer to the world's equator. But she never knew either of those lands. Ferelden was her home and it felt normal to her.

"Hey stranger," a familiar voice said from behind her. She turned, and smiled.

It was Athran.

She sprung to her feet and dove into the man's gut. Her embrace was tight around his robed figure. He rubbed her head and laughed. "Have you been well?"

She nodded, but frowned.

Athran's face expressed sympathy and concern. "What's wrong, Alexa?"

She told him of her sleeplessness. Of her guilt and everything that bothered her. He sat and he listened without speaking until she was finished. And then he spoke. "I understand."

She was surprised. A part of her was convinced that Athran would think the same as everyone else in the Chantry. That the Maker's work justified all means. Even betrayal of one's kin. That is, until she remembered that he became a templar to help his kin.

"I don't think you're wrong. But I think over time, he may forgive you."

"Really?"

"Yes. You're both children and time is a healer. The years will bring maturity to you both and you may even see each other again."

"I miss him," she admitted. "We were together our whole lives. We never had anyone except mother, then she died. And now we apart." Athran knew the feeling. He was a long way from his own family.

But it was where he wanted to be.

"You know," he said, forming an idea. "I think I know a way you could be reunited with your brother and be away from these strict sisters."

"How?" she requested almost desperately. "How?"

"Become a templar," was his answer.

The thought had crossed her mind. But she was a small child. She had no idea when she could be eligible or if she even had the ability. But Athran guaranteed that he could teach her what she needed to know.

He took her to the Revered Mother and spoke of her wishes. And there was no cause to protest. And the following weeks were spent with long hours of exercises and drills. Athran was a taskmaster in training, but to her credit, Alexa had talent. She was incredibly focused, driven to meet her goal.

And the hours not spent training her body were spent honing her mind. She studied in the Chantry's library, learning history - or the Chantry's perception of history, and committing it to memory. She also practiced the mental techniques Athran had taught her to draw out the abilities of a templar. She had not officially joined the order, even as a recruit. She was still too young.

But when the time came, she would be ready.

To Be Continued


End file.
